


All Good Things... (They Don't Have to End)

by sterlingstars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Feels, Trans Character, Trans Steve Rogers, it was supposed to be small and now it's this monster, there's a lot of different feels in here, this thing wrote itself man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlingstars/pseuds/sterlingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There are many, many instances in Bucky's life where he has to swoop in and protect Steve. It happens a lot, since the kid can never keep his mouth shut or his fists to himself- though Bucky is always happy to step in and help him finish people off. It's what he does. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>There is one time, however, where he does not have to step in, and he never forgets it, not for the rest of his life.</i></p><p> </p><p>Bucky learns something new about Steve- but that doesn't stop him- from protecting him, providing for him... loving him. Because even when the world came crashing down around him, there was always Steve. Always beautiful, always strong, and always there to pick up the pieces.</p><p>Perhaps all good things don't have to come to an end, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Good Things... (They Don't Have to End)

**Author's Note:**

> So.... this is a thing. I've been wanting to write about trans Steve for a long time, and this just finally happened. Many days at my laptop and a lot of enduring self-inflicted feelings brings us this. It started out with the intention of being a few short snapshots of Bucky encouraging Steve, of showing him how beautiful he is in the skin he's in, and turned into.... this. 
> 
> Either way, I'm proud of the result, and am very excited to share this one. I'm already considering a sequel of sorts, so we'll see how that works out! In the meantime... please do enjoy c:

There are many, many instances in Bucky's life where he has to swoop in and protect Steve. It happens a lot, since the kid can never keep his mouth shut or his fists to himself- though Bucky is always happy to step in and help him finish people off. It's what he does. 

There is one time, however, where he does not have to step in, and he never forgets it, not for the rest of his life.

They're eighteen, fresh-faced, out in the streets. It's warm, the first tendrils of summer creeping up on them, and everyone's got their sleeves rolled up, jackets tossed over their shoulders. It's been a good day- Bucky took Steve to the movies, to catch a flick and just relax. He's worked a long shift at the docks, and he got a day off, wanted to treat Stevie to a nice day out. 

Things get heated, as they always seem to, because Steve is a magnet for trouble, no matter what he does. Him and Roy O'Connor get into an argument cause Steve caught him pinching Gladys Mills, and being the gentleman he is, has words for him. The argument progresses outside, in the alley by the theater, and Bucky comes around the corner just in time to watch what he would consider a massacre.

“Why you so offended, Rogers?” Roy spits. “You a delicate girl, all offended over the lady?”

Something changes, then, and Bucky watches it all unfold like it's in slow motion. Time stills a little, and Steve's face goes deep red, those bony shoulders square, and he gets a wicked look in his eye that even scares Bucky a little.

“I'm not a _girl_!” He growls, and before either of them can move or say a word, Steve is on Roy, small fists flying with a brutality Bucky's never seen from him before. 

He's proud, actually, if a little nervous. Roy's on the ground, face a mess, and eventually he stops fighting back. That's when Bucky intervenes, ducking into the alley and gripping Steve by the shoulders, dragging him away before he can do more damage. Steve's shaking, and Bucky makes soothing noises. They don't really speak as he leads them back to the apartment, but that's okay. They get in the door and Bucky puts Steve on their sofa, grabbing him some water. But he looks over, and his heart hitches.

Steve is _crying_. Shit. 

He abandons the cup of water at the sink, going to Steve's side and sinking down next to him on the sofa, wrapping his arms around Steve's bony, heaving shoulders.

“Shit, Stevie- you okay?” He asks gently. “Don't feel too bad for the guy, alright? He's an asshole. His mama shoulda taught him better, he got what was coming to 'im. If not from you, then from someone else.”

Steve doesn't really respond, and Bucky frowns. He gets his hand under Steve's chin, real gentle, and lifts his face up.

“Hey,” he says gently, and his hands frame Steve's face, thumbs wiping the tears from his cheeks. “Hey, Stevie, what's wrong? He didn't mess you up, did he?”

He shakes his head, biting his lip. He opens his mouth like he's going to speak, but fresh tears start pouring from those baby-blues, and Bucky feels his heart crack at the sight.

“What's the matter, Steve?” He asks. “Oh, come on, pal, you can tell me. You know that, right? What did this asshole do to you? I'll go finish that job.” He scowls, suddenly regretting pulling Steve's fists from Roy's face. 

“He uh... it's what he said,” Steve manages to stutter out. His voice is quiet, hitched from his crying. He's looking at his feet. “He didn't get a hand on me, Buck. It's what he said.”

Bucky frowns a little, trying to remember the exchange. One thing sticks out.

“When he called you a girl?” He shakes his head. “Aww, Stevie, you can't let that get to ya, man. That's not even a good insult. I coulda come up with something better when I was seven. He was just reaching, you know that, right? You're the farthest thing from a girl, anyways.”

Steve's breath hitches, and when he looks up, Bucky is floored. His eyes- they're so wide. His mouth is trembling, face glistening with his tears, and there's something about his expression that's so vulnerable it just hurts to look at.

“Steve?” He says quietly.

“You mean that?” Steve asks, and his voice is so quiet and raw that it digs right into Bucky's chest. “That... that I'm far from a girl?”

“Well yeah,” he says. “Of course you are. One of the manliest men I know, punk.” He chuckles softly and gently hits Steve's arm. “Jeez, Stevie, I didn't know that kind of thing got to ya so bad.”

“I...” He swallows, and his hands are shaking. “I didn't think you'd find out like this.”

“Find out what?”

Steve looks up at him again, and there's that vulnerable expression. Bucky's gut twists at the sight. Steve could get him to do anything, with that look, he knows without a doubt. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Sort of.” Steve huffs out a huge sigh, and he's still shaking. “Buck, I got something to tell you. I.. maybe I shoulda told you a long time ago, but I never knew how.”

Bucky's heart is hammering away in his chest, and his palms are sweaty. He's not sure what to make of this- what Steve could have possibly kept from him for so long, that seems so important. 

“Well go for it, pal,” he says gently. “You know you can tell me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He means that. He really does, with every fiber of his being. He's known Steve for practically his whole life, been by his side through everything life's had to throw at them. Whatever this secret of his is could be nothing. And even if it's something big- well, that's what best friends are for. He lays a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder and looks him right in the eye. He's not backing out of this, no matter what he says.

Steve swallows, wringing his hands, thin fingers scraped and bloody at the knuckles.

“I... I'm not a girl,” he says firmly, hands clenching into fists. “But I... I was... I have the body of one. Of a girl. Got... got all the parts for it and stuff.” He sighs, and Bucky feels it through his small frame. “But I don't... I don't _feel_ like a girl, Buck- I never have. And I... I told my ma, back when I was little. She believed me. She told me... she told me it was okay. That if I said I was a boy.... then I was.”

Steve sighs again, fresh tears springing into his eyes, and runs a hand through his hair. He's looking at the floor between his feet, and he's still shaking.

“My ma, she... she was so good about it, Buck. Didn't call me a freak or send me to church. She let me cut my hair, she got new clothes for me. Moved us over here to Brooklyn. Let me call myself Steve.”

He's crying in earnest, now, his small frame shaking, and he has a small smile on his face.

“It feels _right_ , Bucky,” he says, and despite his tears, his voice is strong, firm. “This is... this is who I am. And you... you come along, you call me Steve, call me a man, and... it feels so good. The way it was meant to be. And I dunno- Roy just... just callin me a girl like that, it... it hurt, probably more than it should. But I'm always afraid of people knowing, cause people don't like people like me, Bucky. They send us to asylums and churches and lock us up, and I don't wanna end up like that. I just wanna be Steve.” He lets out a sob. “I just wanna be Steve, Bucky. That's all I ever wanted.”

Bucky's heart is in a knot. Steve. His Steve, hiding this secret from him all this time. He wonders how hard it's been for him, over the years, keeping his shirt on, making sure he acts the right way, always hiding in his own skin. He feels tears threaten at the corner of his own eyes, and he brings his hand back to Steve's chin, tilting his face towards him.

“You'll always be Steve to me,” Bucky says gently. “You could never be anything else, anyone else. You're Steve, and you're a man, no matter what God put in your pants, and that's the end of the story.”

Steve's mouth wobbles, and he's crying again, and Bucky is pulling him into his arms before he can think twice about it. He rubs Steve's back, runs a hand over his hair, making soothing noises. Steve sobs into his shoulder all the same, shaking with his crying, and what Bucky is sure is relief. 

“I don't care what anyone else thinks,” Bucky says. “I don't care what other people think is right and wrong- I care about _you_ , because you're my best friend, and you mean more to me than anyone else in this whole rotten world, ya got that? You're a damn good man, Steve.”

Steve pulls away a little, and his eyes are bright and red-rimmed, but he's got the hint of a smile on his face.

“You mean all that, Buck? You really don't care?”

“Hell no,” he says. “It doesn't matter. You're still Steve, you're still my best friend.”

“I was... I was so worried, Bucky-”

“None of that,” Bucky says. “You ain't got a thing to worry about, Stevie. I'm here for you, through all of it. And if some fuck punk calls you a girl again, I'll lay 'im flat and send his sorry ass back to his ma. No worries.”

Steve chuckles, and leans his forehead against Bucky's chest.

“You're too good for me, Buck,” he says.

“Nah,” Bucky says, stroking his hair. “You're the one who's too good for me.”

+

Life goes on. Roy O'Connor doesn't dare show his face within a two block radius of Steve, which helps Bucky sleep at night- though he'd still like to lay his own fists on the asshole. Still, it's better. Nothing even changes between them- they still share their rickety bed, they still laugh and talk and share clothes and meals. 

But then the war happens.

The war. Bucky never counted on the war, though there were rumors in the papers and on every street corner for months on end. He and Steve talk about it over dinner, in bed at night when they can't sleep, while they walk down the street. America's going to war again, sending her finest men and boys to fight the Germans. 

What Bucky doesn't count on is Steve's utterly vicious desire to enlist. It's a hunger that ensnares him, and Bucky watches as his best friend gets caught up in the glamor. He pays rapt attention to the ads when they go to the movies, lets his glances linger on posters hung up on poles and buildings. He talks about it a lot, those baby blues all lit up with excitement.

His heart clenches at the sight. His Steve, all thin wrists and asthma, could never get into the army. There's also the matter of his body- other than his sicknesses, they would never let Steve in the army once they found out his secret, and there would be no way to keep it from them. He hates to know this, hates this for Steve. They would lock him up and throw away the key, surely, if they found out.

Bucky tries to keep his mind off of these things by taking Steve to all the secret places in Brooklyn, where you can find all the people society likes to pretend don't exist. He met them a long time ago, kissed a boy for the first time, found out he likes them as much as he likes the dames. There's folks of every shade, every shape, every little walk that society frowns on. He loves the drag queens, with their pretty dresses and silk stockings, dragging cigarettes between their brightly colored lips and batting their thickly coated lashes at him when he walks by. 

Steve takes to it instantly, and he seems to come to life. Bucky introduces him to Laura, a sweet little thing, who's in the same boat as Steve. They take to each other well, and she rattles off some of her secrets, tells Steve the best places to get things he needs, the kinds of people he can trust when he has to go to the doctor. Steve's lit up like a Christmas tree, and that's enough to get Bucky through more than a few cold nights, if he's being honest with himself.

It's beautiful, to see him in his element, completely free. Careless. There is no fear, in these little dive bars in the middle of nowhere, the shadowed corners of the city catching Steve and his ilk. Bucky, too, to be frank- people wouldn't take kindly to knowing he likes boys, too. So on the weekends, and sometimes on the weeknights, they come to these little corners, and Bucky shares cigarettes with drag queens and showgirls and gay people, chats them up over beer. Lets himself be loose. 

“Well- what d'ya think, Stevie?” Bucky asks after the first night. 

They're back in the apartment. It's late, and they smell like cigarettes and perfume, the taste of their beer still on their lips. Steve hasn't stopped smiling. He looks up at Bucky with those big, wide eyes, and his face splits into the prettiest smile he's ever seen.

“Buck, it was... it was incredible,” he breathes. “I mean, I know people... people like me are out there, but, you can't exactly form a club. They're hard to find.”

“Well, look no further,” Bucky says with a smile. “I got you all covered, doll.”

The name. It just sort of slips out, and Bucky feels his cheeks flush deeply as soon as it leaves his mouth. He definitely hadn't meant to say that out loud- perhaps he was a little more tipsy than he thought. He usually keeps those endearments in his head, tucked safely in a corner where it's safe. He doesn't even know if Steve is into fellas- they've never talked about it, and he's never asked. Felt like too much of an intrusion, it seemed. 

Steve blushes, and looks at the floor, seemingly just as embarrassed as Bucky is, which makes this a little less awkward. Even so, he mentally berates himself for the slip.

“S-sorry about that,” he says, trying to backtrack a little. “I uh... don't mean to make you uncomfortable or nothin.”

“Bucky.”

Bucky looks back up from his shoes, and Steve has this little smile on his face. He's still red all the way down his neck, cause he always blushes like that, but his eyes are real soft, and he's smiling.

“I.. I don't mind it, y'know.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, and blushes a little deeper. “If you wanna... wanna call me that. I like it.”

Bucky's heart stutters in his chest, and he finds himself walking forward, closer. Steve looks up at him, all red-faced and smiling, and Bucky feels his heart clench. God, this man. This man, right here. 

“Stevie- anyone ever told ya how damn pretty you look when you blush?”

“N-no,” he stutters out, eyes a little wide. “They uh... they usually make little noises at me, like a baby. They think it's cute or somethin', I guess.” He bites his lip. “You... you think it looks good on me?”

“I think it looks great on you,” Bucky whispers. 

Steve licks his lips, and Bucky's glued to it, unable to tear his eyes from it. Steve's looking up at him through those long lashes, and he feels weak in the knees. 

“Stevie, I got a question,” Bucky says softly.

“W-what is it, Buck?”

“You like fellas?”

It's much easier to ask than he anticipates, and he breathes a little sigh of relief when Steve doesn't immediately punch him or visibly get upset. He tilts his head, blushing even more, and gives a small nod.

“Yeah, Buck. I do like fellas. Dames, too. But I like fellas.” His voice is soft, quiet, like he's embarrassed about it. It's really cute.

“Well.... you know I like fellas,” Bucky says. “But... there's this one I got my eye on.”

A raised blond brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, his voice coming out a lot more smoother than he currently feels. “Real good-lookin' thing. Little on the slim side, but it's real nice, ya see. He's got these eyes... big, bright blue eyes. And he's got a smile that could light up all of New York, I bet. Artist, too. Not the tortured kind, but a real good one. Good with his hands.”

He steps a little closer, and Steve's eyes are so wide, looking up at Bucky almost like he's grown a second head. He swallows, and Bucky watches the motion of his throat. 

“He sounds like a pretty stand-up guy, Buck,” he says softly. “You better snatch 'im up before someone else does.”

“I plan on it,” Bucky says, voice low, and sweeps Steve into his arms.

Their lips meet. Bucky is _kissing_ Steve, and his knees are feeling shaky. Steve makes a small noise but doesn't fight the kiss, moving his mouth a little. It's a touch awkward, and their teeth bump, but when they pull away, Bucky is smiling.

“I've wanted to do that for a long time,” he says.

“Y-you did?”

“Of course I did!” Bucky says, hands firm on Steve's shoulders.

“Even after- even though I...”

“Doesn't matter to me,” Bucky says fiercely, shaking his head. “What did I tell you, huh? It doesn't matter. You're a man to me, Stevie, always have been. I don't see you as anything else, never could, and I never will. I don't care what you got in your trousers, or what people want to see you as. You gotta know that. I... I fell for you as a man. That's not changing.”

“You mean that?” His eyes are big and full of tears, mouth red from their kiss. 

“With everything I got,” he says. “I wouldn't lie to ya, Stevie- especially not about this.”

“I... I never thought... I never thought you would want me like that,” Steve says, voice shaky. “Even before you knew. I'm skinny and sick and I keep bruising my knuckles. I'm no prince charming or nothin'.”

Bucky smiles, shaking his head. He puts a hand on Steve's face, soft.

“I always wanted you,” he says softly. “From damn near the moment I saw you, though I didn't know what it was back then. Stevie, you're incredible. You're the best man I know. And I don't care that you're skinny, or you got asthma. And I'll always be there to wrap your knuckles and finish off the suckers you start throwin' punches at, anyway. Someone's gotta look out for ya, since you never do it your damn self.”

Steve chuckles, and brings a hand up to rest on Bucky's arm. A few tears have escaped his eyes, and he gives a bright, watery smile.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, Buck?”

“I dunno, but I'm sendin' in an extra thank you to God next time I get my heathen ass into a church.”

Steve laughs, and Bucky pulls him in, tucking his head under his chin. He fits there perfectly, as he always has, small frame a perfect match for Bucky's arms, like he was built to rest there. Bucky smiles, and kisses Steve's head. His hair smells like perfume and cigarettes, and he's crying into one of Bucky's better shirts, but he doesn't have the time to care.

 _This_ , he thinks. _This is how it was meant to be_.

+

It's as if it's always been this way. Trading kisses in the morning, holding hands around the apartment and whenever they go to their favorite dives. Steve sitting in his lap at the bars, laughing and holding onto him when they sway to the music. Holding each other when they sleep, tangled in the sheets and their limbs. 

Steve still blushes like nothing else when they kiss, and Bucky thinks it's the prettiest damn thing he's ever seen. He makes a point to tell this to Steve as often as possible, who always blushes even more and makes Bucky grin like he's won the lottery.

Things progress as time goes on. Finally, they reach a turning point.

They're sitting cross-legged on their bed, and it's warm outside. Bucky's got his shirt off, stripped down to just his delicates. He's posing for Steve, whose pencil is scratching soothingly across the paper of his sketchbook. After a moment, he puts it down, tugging at his collar. It's always hard for him to breathe, in the warm air, and Bucky's concerned.

“You need to take your shirt off, Stevie?” He asks. “It might help.”

His eyes go wide, cheeks a little pink.

“Um. Jeez, I dunno, Buck.” He frowns a little.

Bucky mentally curses himself. “Ah, jeez, sorry, Steve. I didn't think about it.” He pauses. “I mean... you know I don't mind, right? But if you're not comfortable, then you don't have to. But I want you to know that I don't... have a problem. If you wanna take your shirt off. It's hot in here.”

Steve bites his lip, thin fingers twisting the hem of the sheet.

“I know you wouldn't mind. I just... it's hard, sometimes. I'm still nervous about it. You seeing. Sometimes- a lot of the time- I don't wanna see it myself.”

“That's okay,” he says soothingly. “You don't have to do anything you don't wanna. Just thought it might help.”

“I want to,” he says quietly.

“So go for it, pal,” he says, gesturing towards Steve's torso. “Whatever you want.”

He nods, still working the sheet in his hands. He takes a series of deep breaths, most of them shaky for the humidity, and pushes his hair back. His face is a little red, and Bucky gives him a sweet smile, reaching forward to pat his knee.

Steve slowly starts to unbutton his shirt. His thin fingers, normally lithe and graceful, tremble and stumble over the buttons. Bucky bites back an offer to help, trying to help Steve stay as relaxed as possible. This is a big deal, for him, and Bucky understands that. So he just sits patiently, snatches Steve's sketchbook and pencil. He doodles in the margins, though he's no artist, and waits for Steve to finish. Gives him a moment to breathe and collect himself, or even change his mind, if he wants to. 

There's a peaceful quiet between them, and Bucky keeps his eyes on the paper. Steve breathes deeply.

“You... you can look.”

Slowly, Bucky lays the sketchbook back down on the mattress, and lifts his eyes to Steve. He's flushed all the way down to his chest, eyes fixed on his hands, sitting in his lap. 

He has breasts. They're small- Bucky wagers they'd fit into the palms of his hands like nothing. He sees now why they're so easy for Steve to hide. His ribs are prominent, stomach soft and flat. Bucky wants to lean forward, wants to kiss it. Press his mouth to the navel, soft and gentle. 

“You're beautiful, Stevie,” he whispers, shaking his head a little. “You know that? You really are somethin'. I mean... you are just a sight for sore eyes.”

“Bucky...” 

He crosses his arms over his chest, flushing deeper, and Bucky lets him. He scoots forward, presses their knees together, and presses a soft kiss to Steve's forehead. It's damp with sweat, but he doesn't have a single damn to give out. 

“They're more annoying than anything,” Steve says, after a moment. His voice is hushed. “My... my b-breasts, I mean. But they're small enough that I don't have to worry about them being seen, with most of my shirts. I don't have to try to press 'em down with anything, really. Which is good, cause it's pretty uncomfortable. So I don't do it unless I really, really have to.”

Bucky nods. Just waits for Steve to keep talking, to say what he has to say. He can offer him this, if nothing else.

“I'm lucky there, I guess. They could've been bigger, and I'm really glad they're not. Ma always said part of it was how sick I've always been- said it can stunt growth in a lot of places.” He smiles, suddenly, and it's warm. When he looks at Bucky, his eyes are bright. “She always said God must've been lookin' out for me. Helped me out a little bit.”

“Well if anyone deserved it, it's you,” Bucky says. 

Steve laughs in embarrassent. “If you say so.” He sighs. “It's hard, sometimes. To live this way. To... to look at myself in the mirror and not see what I wanna see. Sometimes it just... it gets to me. I try not to let it, cause that's a hole I don't wanna fall in, but it gets hard, sometimes. I get days where it's real bad, ya know? But... but you help. Ya know that? You helped me out, even before you know. Always callin' me a man, telling me how manly I was. All that stuff, it really helps me. Especially on the bad days.”

Bucky smiles, then, and takes Steve's hand in his own. Steve looks up and smiles, and Bucky's chest gets all warm like it always does when Steve smiles at him. This kid will be the end of him.

He brings Steve's hand to his lips and kisses the knuckles. He goes slow, kissing all of them, before turning his hand and pressing a soft, warm kiss to the palm. Steve's breath hitches, and when Bucky looks up, he's gone pink again. He'll never get tired of that.

“Whenever you feel bad, you just tell me, Stevie,” Bucky says. “I'll make sure to layer on the old charm extra thick for you.”

Steve laughs. “Like you don't do that for me anyway, ya big softie.”

Bucky scoffs. “I am not a sofite! Just got a sweet spot for my fella, is all. Anyone else would- 'specially if you're the fella. Can't help but be sweet on you, doll.”

Steve flushes again, and Bucky chuckles, pressing another kiss to his hand. He snatches the pencil and sketchbook off the mattress next to him, and passes it to Steve.

“Now- I believe you had something you were working on.”

Steve smiles as his pencil gets moving again.

+

It's easier, after that, for Steve to be more comfortable around the apartment. As the summer creeps in, sluggish with humidity and blazing sun, Steve allows himself to lounge around the place without his shirt on. Sometimes, he leaves it on- that's usually only on the bad days, though, and Bucky always takes extra care to spend the whole day with him, keep him distracted and reassured. Throws in extra compliments about his masculine attributes and the like, and while it doesn't completely pull the look of sadness from Steve's face, it seems to lighten the load. 

Bucky enjoys the freedom of seeing more of Steve's skin, and spends a lot of time tracing the freckles on his back, mapping out his torso with his eyes. He can't get enough, always staring. He presses soft kisses to Steve's stomach in the dark when they lie in bed, and Steve squirms and gasps and blushes, pleased as ever. 

It's comfortable, natural, as if it's always been like this. Bucky tells Steve every day, as many times as he can, how handsome he is, what a catch he is. It always sends him blushing and stammering a little, and earns Bucky the golden reward of sweet kisses. He can never get enough of those, and takes them whenever he can. They spend a lot of time in kissing when they're at home, making up for all the times they wanted to but couldn't when they were outside their own walls. 

It's nice. Bucky couldn't ask for anything better. Everything, as it stands, it perfect.

+

_“All good things come to an end.”_

Bucky's heard this phrase more times than he could ever count. He doesn't want to believe it. And yet, here they are. 

He holds his enlistment papers in his hands, and they're shaking. The men at the office all congratulated him, clapped him on the back and winked and told him what a good sport he was, what a fine soldier he would make. They all smiled and joked and acted as if this were something much more jovial than war. Perhaps it helped take the edge off.

He hadn't been drafted, but he knew if he didn't enlist, he would end up that way, eventually. And the army pays well enough- well enough that when he comes home, he can afford all of Stevie's medicine, all the things he needs to be comfortable and healthy. He can keep food on the table, keep Steve off the streets hawking newspapers when he needs to be inside. He can take care of them, properly, like he's always wanted to.

Steve is blazing mad when Bucky tells him. Punches the wall and jacks his hand up, swearing like a sailor. His ma's rolling in her grave, her Stevie talking like he's got no manners, but nothing can calm him. Bucky takes it- every angry word, every half-assed insult smothered with choked back tears. He knows Steve's hurt, more than anything. And that's the part that hurts him. He doesn't want it to be this way, tells him so- but what choice does he have? The army needs soldiers, and Bucky needs the money. If he lives long enough to make it back home, he and Stevie can finally have the life they should be living. 

He tells him this; takes Steve's shaking hands in his own and looks him right in the eye. Tells him how he's gonna make him proud, do his part, take a few Nazis down on the way back, and be home in a flash.

“I'm gonna come home to you, Stevie,” he says, and his voice is all steel. “I mean it. They ain't takin' me so easy- I'll come back to ya. I promise, Stevie, I promise. They'll never take me alive. I'll come home, and we'll be okay. Just you and me, alright, doll? It's gonna stay that way. They ain't tearin' us apart.”

Steve nods, and he sobs, grabbing Bucky's shirt. He pulls him in, pulls Steve into his lap, and holds him while he cries it out. He makes soothing noises, rubs his back, and just lets him get it out. The anger bled out of him as quickly as it started, and Bucky's fighting his own tears. He has to be strong- for Steve. This is all for Steve, always has been. He's not in it for glory, or honor, or all that other bullshit people like to talk about. This is for his Steve. 

He's got someone to come home to, so he's gonna make this count.

+

The war... it is really something. It's big- much bigger than Bucky ever dreamed. He's only a Sargeant in a sea of others, and he feels so small. The trenches, the tanks, the explosions... Bucky's never seen anything like it, could never have anticipated it when he was deployed.

Luckily, his unit is nice. Most of them are young, fresh-faced and unmarried, barely into adulthood. It's easier to bond with them, since most of them are so close in age. In between things, the atmosphere is almost like back home. They have jokes, they talk, they get to know each other. Bucky makes a few friends, and it eases the ache in his chest at the absence of Steve.

God, Steve. He misses him every day- more than he could ever explain. He keeps a photo of him tucked in his pocket against his heart at all times. It sounds corny, but it helps, on the bad days, when his fingers are cold on the trigger of his rifle and he aches from days of marching. Covered in mud and blood and dirt, exhausted to his core, Steve is right there against his heart, and it makes things just a little easier. Drives him to keep walking when he wants to saw his feet off, helps him fall asleep when the rain is pounding and he's shivering in his cot, trying to calm himself down.

The boys all talk about the people they have back home. Parents and siblings, best friends, dames they left with kisses and promises of weddings when they get back. They love talking about their gals- most of them never shut up, always pulling out photo and old lettes, going on and on about Cindy and Mary and Amelia. 

“You got someone back home, Barnes?” Someone asks.

They're sitting around a fire, just after dinner, talking before they all settle into their cots. Bucky smiles, and nods, running a hand over his hair.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I got someone.”

“You gonna tell us about 'er, or are you just gonna make moon eyes at the ground all night?”

Bucky chuckles, suppresses the urge to correct him and say “him”. He runs a hand over his hair again, and nods.

“Real pretty thing,” he says with a sigh. “Real slender, ya know? All nice thin lines. Subtle curves, but they're still nice to put your hands on.” The crowd makes appreciative noises. “Blonde, too. And these big, bright blue eyes... bright as the summer sky.” He sighs wistfully. “My doll's an artist, too, ya know. One of the best I've ever seen. Likes to draw me, draw people we see on the street. My doll's good with faces. Good with a lot of things. Sweetest thing you'll ever meet- always wants to make everyone smile. Always tryin' to help everyone. Better than I'll ever be.”

One man whistles low. “Better snatch that up when you get back, boy,” he says. “Sounds like a real catch, that one.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Really is somethin.”

He fingers the photo in his pocket, and kisses it before he goes to sleep. He's gonna see Stevie again. One day.

+

Then he gets captured. Whole lot of 'em, taken in by the Nazis. Except not, really. They call themselves something else- Hydra. An arm of the Nazis. They're all the same to Bucky- the scum of the earth. The lowest of men. 

And then they pick him special.

Zola, is the name of the doctor. He keeps Bucky strapped to tables and chairs, and does a lot of painful things to him. Mutters to himself in German about all sorts of things, and Bucky's German isn't so good yet, so he doesn't catch all of it. When he does speak to Bucky in English, it's clipped, barely formal. He speaks to Bucky like he's barely a person, and treats him worse than that.

He loses hope very quickly. Much more quickly than he thought he would, but there isn't much to be done. He's delirious, and spends a lot more time unconscious as time goes on. He doesn't know how long he's been here, or what's become of the others. He doesn't know if they're alive, or how much longer he'll be alive, himself. 

His only regret, he supposes, is that he doesn't get to see Steve again. The photo is still tucked in his pocket against his heart, and it brings small comfort. Every day, he wonders if he's going to die. Every day, just before he closes his eyes again, wondering if it's going to be the last time, he thinks of Steve. His smile, his laugh, the way he says his name. He promised Steve he would come back- he promised, and now he's failed. He's going to die here, and he's going to leave Steve alone, and that, above all else, is his biggst regret and worst failure.

He tries not to let the pain dig in too deep. 

Bucky spends his days barely aware of his surroundings, and things seem to fade out. He figures he's just waiting to die, at this point. There's nothng to be done. He allows himself to fall unconscious, and hopes for... something. Just something.

He closes his eyes.

“-ucky! Bucky! Buck, wake up!”

That voice. Oh God, that voice. He knows it anywhere. His eyes open. Those baby blues, the ones that trail his dreams, are right in front of him, and he's breathless. He rips the wires off of himself, and Steve helps, and oh God, it's _Steve_ , he's here. 

“Steve,” he chokes out.

Surely, he's dead. There's no way Steve is here, in Austria, rescuing him. There is just no way that this is happening. And yet.

His heart burns at the sound of his voice.

+

“I know it's... a lot to take in.” Steve's voice is gentle, those big eyes of his a little wide.

“No shit.”

They're in Steve's tent. The rain is pounding, and it's cold and wet, but Bucky is obvlivious to everything outside of Steve. He looks... he looks indredible. All tall and muscular, and a hundred times more masculine than he ever looked before. Bucky's heart sings at the sight- one of the first things he thought, after he was coherent, was that Steve finally had the body that belonged to him, that he deserved. 

“I just... you look so damn _good_ , Stevie,” he says, grinning. “I mean, I always thought you looked good, but this... those doctors outdid themselves.”

Steve grins, his face going a little pink, and Bucky's heart is warm. He reaches over, takes one of Steve's hands in his. They're much bigger now, but he still has those long, slim fingers. Bucky presses kisses to them, to the knuckles, his palm. Steve sighs and Bucky smiles wider.

“Doctor Erskine was so kind,” Steve says gently. “I... I told him, about me. And he just... he listened, Bucky. He told me he would help me feel better. He talked them into putting testosterone into the serum, Buck. He had them tweak it a little to help me. And they're giving me a supply of testosterone. 'Course, only a couple people know about it, and it's still a big secret, but... they still took me. They're letting me be a man.”

Bucky feels tears in the corners of his eyes, and he leans forward, hands on Steve's broad new shoulders, and pulls him in. Steve's breath is warm and hitched against his neck, and Bucky rubs his back.

“I never thought I'd see you again,” he says into Steve's shoulder. “I thought I was gonna die back there without ever seein' your face again, and here you fuckin' are. You're here, and you're healthy, and I...” He chokes back a sob. “Stevie, I'm so glad you're safe.”

They're both choked up, and in the privacy of the tent and the rain, they cry. It's messy and almost childish, but Bucky doesn't care, because Steve is here, and he can breathe, and he has this beautiful new body, and Bucky is alive to see it. 

They kiss. It's long and lingering, sweet. Steve's mouth is as soft as it ever was, and it feels like coming home. They practically melt into each other, and Bucky stays in his tent. They shove their cots together and sleep as wrapped around each other as they can manage. It's close enough to home that Bucky sleeps soundly for the first time since he was shipped over. He feels like he can breathe again. 

He never thought he would have this again, but here they are. Steve's arms are around him, his breathing and heartbeat steady, and Bucky just about feels like he's died and gone to heaven. 

Perhaps all good things don't have to end, after all.

+

There's not a lot of time for stolen kisses, while they're overseas. There's a lot of fighting, a lot of moving, but never enough time for them, it seems. Steve shines, here. He is a sun among moons, and his influence is obvious. He believes in this work, in his units, in himself. 

Being under Steve with the Howling Commandos is actually a wonderful experience. Mission after successful mission stacks up, and Bucky finds every oppurtinity possible to land a good one on Steve's mouth, because he's proud of him, and he just... he loves him. So much.

He tells him this, as often as possible.

He gets extra opportunity when they land in a small village on the coast and stay in a hotel. They're too far from camp and it's too late for them to trek, so they book their rooms and settle in for the night. Bucky and Steve make their excuses as soon as possible and get into their room. As soon as the door is shut, they're on each other, giggling around each others' mouths as they kiss passionately. 

“I love you,” Bucky mouths against Steve's neck.

He's got him on the bed, and he's straddling him, jackets off and shirts unbuttoned. Bucky endlessly admires Steve's chest, running his hands over the smooth, muscled skin. His breasts were flattened out because of the serum, became more muscle than anything else. 

“I love you, you're so beautiful, Stevie.”

Steve smiles, cups the back of Bucky's head as they kiss. He's all flushed and bright-eyed, and Bucky feels like he's melting. 

“You should see yourself,” he says, smiling. His eyes roam over Bucky, and it's his turn to flush now. He bites his lip. “You look real pretty up there, Buck.”

“I can think of a few places I'd look prettier.”

Steve's breath catches. Bucky smirks, pressing a kiss to Steve's stomach. Steve is trembling beneath him, and he kisses all along the waistband of his pants. 

They've never done this before. They've never really even talked about it- Bucky doesn't want to push him or make him feel uncomfortable. So he slows down, ignores the erection starting up in his pants, and looks Steve in the eye.

“Anything you want,” he rasps. “Just say the word and it's yours, baby.”

Steve takes a deep breath, shuddering. He's red all the way down to his chest, lips swollen from their kisses. It's the most beautiful thing Bucky's ever seen. He closes his eyes a moment. 

“I... I think I'm ready, Buck,” he whispers. “For you to... for you to see. To t-touch me there.”

Bucky groans, and slides up to kiss Steve deeply. They stay this way for a moment, kissing, their fingers intertwined. Bucky breaks the kiss and looks at Steve, tracing his mouth.

“You sure?” He asks. “I don't wanna push you.”

“I'm sure,” he says, voice a little shaky. “I've been thinkin' about it a long time, Buck. E-ever since you left. I wanted... I wanted it to be more special than this, but I don't know when we'll get another chance...”

“Say no more, babydoll,” Bucky purrs into his neck. “I'll take care of you, and it'll be real special, I promise.”

They kiss again, and Steve makes to unbutton his trousers. They slide off and he tosses them away. Bucky removes his own, and now they're in their delicates. Steve's breathing is ragged, and Bucky's cock twitches a little. He smiles, sweet as can be, and kisses his way down Steve's stomach, which jumps under his lips. His hands go to the edge of Steve's underwear, and he gives a slight nod. 

Bucky pulls them off, and Steve goes red as he smiles. 

“Stunning,” he says. 

To even the odds, he removes his own underwear, and Steve goes redder. He chuckles, grinning.

“Looks like we both like what we see,” he says, and Steve laughs, playfully smacking his thigh.

He smiles and gets between Steve's legs. He spreads them, Steve trembling, and kisses the inside of his right thigh. He takes it slow, letting his lips really carress the soft skin, before he switches to the left. Steve is making tiny, breathy noises, and Bucky's cock is really enjoying it. But this part is about Steve.

“I'm gonna make you feel amazing, Stevie,” he says. “I've picked up a few things, ya see, and I know just how to make you feel right.”

Steve just manages a sort of strangled noise, and Bucky chuckles. 

He takes his index finger and strokes right between Steve's lips, and Steve gasps, hips rising a little. He's so wet, and Bucky groans. He continues to stroke, lightly, and Steve is gasping and squirming a little.

“Baby, you're so wet, Jesus,” Bucky says, voice low. 

“Thinkin' about you does that kind of thing,” Steve says quietly.

“Mmm.”

Bucky goes for the gold, then, and licks a broad stripe across Steve's labia. The other man keens, back arching a little, his legs parting further. Bucky goes on from there, licking in broad, flat stripes across Steve's lips. Steve is panting, writhing a little, and Bucky grins. 

He points his tonge a little, goes a little deeper, and Steve whines. He sucks on Steve's clit, and he loses it, snatching the pillow from under his head to bury his face in and yell. Bucky takes this as encouragement, and keeps going, licking at Steve like it's the best treat he's ever had. (Arguably... it is.) Steve is writhing, breathless, and keeps making noise into the pillow. 

He brings the pillow from his face for a moment, gasping, and one hand reaches down to pull at Bucky's hair.

“Bucky, I'm gonna... I think I'm g-g-gonna...”

“Come on, baby, I got you,” Bucky murmurs. “Don't worry. Just relax and let loose, baby, I'm right here.”

Steve groans, and grabs the pillow, his back arching as he yells into it, coming. Bucky laps at him eagerly, licking him through his orgasm, and Steve is shaking. Bucky eases up after a moment, pulling back and watching Steve's face, after he moves the pillow off of it. He's so red, and he looks utterly wrecked. Bucky grins, and wipes his mouth.

Steve's eyes flutter back open, and he smiles. It's all soft and slow, and he pulls Bucky against him for a kiss. It's fiery, but slow, and Bucky groans a little. Steve moves in a flash and flips them, hovering over Bucky. He gives a devilish grin, and Bucky laughs, which promptly becomes a gasp as Steve's hand reaches his cock. 

He's still achingly hard, and even that small contact is enough to make him want to sing. Steve grins as he wraps one hand around Bucky, and starts to stroke, slowly. He breathes hard through his nostrils, hips rising a little to meet Steve's hand, and groans. 

“God, baby,” he gasps. “You know how long I've wanted you to touch me like this?”

“I do,” Steve says, and there's a light in his eyes. 

There aren't really any more words, since Bucky's already incoherent. Steve strokes him slow and smooth, taking his time with it, and Bucky's wrecked. He's making breathy noises, hips thrusting in time with Steve's hand, eyes a little unfocused as he just looks at Steve, whose face is red but is smiling like this is the best damn thing that's ever happened to him. 

Bucky throws his head back and hisses, back arching a little, as Steve twists his wrist a little. It's not exactly the world's best handjob, but it's Steve, and that's enough to make it perfect in itself. He's moaning softly, little breathless grunts, and Steve looks like he's enjoying the show, which only makes it better.

All too soon, he feels his orgasm building, and he should feel embarrased at how long he's lasted, but it's been a long time since he could get release, and it's Steve's hands on him, and, well, that's more than enough to send him over. 

“Stevie,” he rasps. “Stevie, baby, I'm gonna come. Jesus, baby, your hands...”

Steve smiles, peppers kisses across Bucky's jaw. Wordlessly, he strokes faster, and Bucky's breath hitches, his hips rocking into Steve's hand, and he knows it's almost over. Steve kisses his neck, still stroking steadily, and Bucky clings to him, hands on those broad new shoulders, and gasps into Steve's neck as he comes, spilling onto Steve's hand and onto his stomach. He's gasping, and Steve is grinning, kissing him softly, and finally removes his hand, wiping it on the sheets. 

He rolls off and scoops Bucky into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest, and Bucky finds himself short of breath for a lot of different reasons. They're facing each other, and Bucky brings a hand to Steve's face, cupping his cheek.

“Stevie...” he whispers. “T-thank you. For trusting me.”

“I always trusted you, Buck,” he says softly. “I was just... scared. Which doesn't make a lotta sense, considering you would never mind, but... it felt big. Showing you, I mean. Having you... having you t-touch me.”

“It's okay,” he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth. “I understand. I get it. But I'm glad you finally decided to say yes.”

“Never could say no to you anyway, jerk,” Steve says fondly.

Bucky brushes a thumb over his mouth, smiling.

“Same goes for you, ya spoiled punk.”

+

Things change, then. They change a lot.

Bucky Barnes is a dead man, and then he is not.

Bucky Barnes is a man, and then he is not.

Bucky Barnes is

Bucky 

Who is Bucky? A thrum at the back of The Asset's head- a nagging, like a fly in its ear. Bucky.

Steve. Bucky.

Something.... something is not right. The Asset, it is not right. No. No... he is not right. He. Not it. Not an object, a thing. A person.

Bucky?

Steve?

 _Oh_. 

Everything comes crashing down, and Bucky knows. He is Bucky. His Steve, his Stevie, his babydoll.... He remembers. He knows. Everything is different, but also the same. Steve wants him to come home. Home is gone, building torn down in Brooklyn and replaced with an office- Bucky's seen it. 

But a building was never home, was it? Steve. Familiar arms, soft voice, same hands with those long, thin fingers. Bright eyes, so bright, so happy and full of life. Hair like fire in the sun. He doesn't taste like dirt and shitty regulation soap anymore, but the essentials of him, the core, is the same. The constant in the storm of Bucky's rioting mind.

Steve. Home. Safe. Things will be better again. His good thing does not have to end.

+

His secret- everyone knows it, now. The whole world knows that Steve is transgender. And that's the word for it- much nicer than some of the names Bucky used to hear, back in the day. The world knows that Steve is transgender, and it starts a storm that they are powerless to stop.

There are people who say terrible, terrible things about him. Call him terrible names, threaten him with violence, the promise of the flames of hell. Say that he's not real, not valid, not a man, and what do they know?

Steve doesn't cry over them. He doesn't bat an eye when people with wide eyes and bibles scream at him on the streets. He does not cry when he sees people on the news say bad things about him. He shrugs it off, shakes it off like water, and goes about his life as if nothing has changed. And there- that is the Steve that Bucky knows and loves, the one who will not take no for an answer, who bends the rules and lives his life how he wants, no matter what other people expect of him. 

“I love myself, Bucky,” he says, one veening. Bucky asked how he felt when they saw more bad things on the news. Steve just shrugged and smirked. “I love who I am. Fuck everyone else. And you know what this means? For kids like me? It's important, Buck, that I'm proud of who I am.”

Bucky couldn't agree more. 

They make quite a pair, and people talk about them a lot. Two super soldiers, both seemingly revived from the dead, brought back to take names and cause a stir. Steve is transgender, which apparently is a point of controversy, and Bucky is a former assassin. (Some people like to leave out the part where that wasn't exactly his choice, but he'll live.)

However, for as many people say bad things, there are even more that say good ones. Steve... he lights up like a damn Christmas tree, always getting invited to events, attending charities, speaking to kids. He spends a lot of time with different LGBT+ orginizations, giving time and money and his own hands to help out kids that are just as scared as one Steve Rogers was, back in the day. 

He does a lot of interviews for little magazines, for all sorts of people, talks about his experiences with being trans. He tells them what it was like back in the forties, tlaks about the little hovels he and Bucky went to, the people he met along the way. He talks about Doctor Erskine, and how he helped him out when he gave him the serum, giving him the body he always wanted but could never have. 

Steve spends so much of his time reaching out to kids like him, and eventually, he convinces Bucky to tag along. That takes a while, because Bucky still has problems with people sometimes, and admittedly, he's a little worried about how he'll be received every time he steps into the public. But a lot of people- countless people- welcome him with open arms. 

Trans, bisexual Steve Rogers, and bisexual Bucky Barnes- it's a revelation to the community, and people trip over themselves once it all comes out. People come up to Steve, and Bucky even- tell them about their own experiences, about how inspired they are. Bucky cries more times than he can count over it; he's felt, ever since he came to, that he could never be a hero. 

The Bucky that was a hero fell off a train in the Alps, and he was always sure it would stay that way. But some of the things people have said to him... he's more than surprised. Steve tells him it's natural, of course they love Bucky, why wouldn't they? Bucky calls him a sap and says he's biased, which always gets a nod and a laugh. 

Things are... looking up. A lot, actually. They may be different, but it is much better than he ever could have imagined. Much better. He could get used to this.

+

Things aren't perfect- not by a long shot. There's still a lot of work to be done, a lot of issues to be resolved, but... they're on their way. They've made so much progress, they've done so much, and here they are.

They're alive. They're alive, and together. Steve can be himself, Bucky can be his own person- and that is more than enough. More than he ever thought either of them would get. Steve insists that it's the universe making up for all the shit it lobbed at them, and Bucky agrees. 

It's an apology he's more than willing to accept.


End file.
